Eventide

The evening shadows deepen fast,
Enshrouding sea and shore;
The day so bright, so quickly past,
Returneth nevermore.

The night is come; but lo! on high
The steadfast stars appear;
A holy calm is in the sky,
And heaven seems very near.

So fades, at last, life’s little day,—
So falls death’s deepening gloom;
We hasten, each a different way,
To reach one goal,—the tomb!

But God is good, whate’er may come;—
To every heart is given
A tender memory of home,
A trembling hope of heaven.